Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Yesterday I mentioned that cycling can render you physically useless once you're off the bike. At least that's been my experience, and as a self-indulgent blogger naturally I impose my own experiences on the rest of the world. The uselessness effect wasn't as pronounced when I was younger, but now that I'm whatever age I am I grow increasingly awkward and crablike when I don't have a pair of wheels under my crotch, and as soon as I clip out and dismount I find myself scuttling about in a stiff, contorted, and sideways fashion.*

*[This is where you tell me to get a recumbent, causing me to vomit.]

Scarier still is that the pernicious effects of years of cycling don't stop with the body, and it can also atrophy the brain. Remember the cyclist in "Triplets of Belleville," a pair of quads with an extraneous Gumbylike body attached?

Well, the same thing can happen to your mind, and I'm here to tell you it's happened to me. I've been a messenger. I've been a racer. I've been a commuter. I know how to get around the city on a bike. Take that bike away though and I'm a rube, as hapless as a tourist. This is because my bikeless decision-making skills have withered through years of disuse, which I finally faced yesterday when I had an appointment in Manhattan, ventured there without a bike, and kept getting hit with the "stupid tax."

While my new mansion is quite convenient to the subway, once in awhile I like to "class it up" by taking a shower and riding the Metro North commuter train. Unfortunately, it turns out that when you take me off a bike and put me on rails I turn into an idiot. Arriving in Grand Central, I thought "I should pick up a Metro North bike permit," which I did. After purchasing it, I discovered that the Long Island Rail Road bike permit I already had is good for the Metro North too, and indeed they're the exact same permit, and in fact my LIRR permit says "Metro North" on it in really big letters, which I noticed when I put my new Metro North pass in my wallet and there was one exactly like it already there. So essentially, I paid a stupid tax of five dollars.

[I'm actually into the MTA for at least $15 in bike passes at this point, since I ripped up my last LIRR bike permit and threw it in a fit of pique when a conductor tossed me off the train somewhere around Hampton Bays for bringing a bicycle on a peak train. I was too angry to think about it at the time, but it was obviously my fault for boarding the wrong train, and as I showered the train car with confetti I probably looked like a more Fredly Rip Taylor. However, that loss happened in a different fiscal year so it doesn't count.]

Next, I went somewhere to do some stuff before my appointment, and then I got caught up in that stuff and realized I was going to be late for my appointment, and because I was running late and I'm a member of the 1% I said "fuck it" and hailed a taxicab, and then I got in the taxicab and told the driver where to go, and then I got wrapped up in a phone call like a douchebag, and then we got to my destination, I got out, and the driver pulled away, at which point I realized I had given him the wrong intersection and was now over four crosstown blocks away from where I needed to be--nearly as far, in fact, as I had been when I hailed the taxicab in the first place, rendering the entire ride moot.

By the way, I realize what that sounds like, but my appointment was not at a questionable massage parlor.

After my appointment, I bought lunch, and only after opening and drinking from my Snapple did I realize I had bought the diet by accident. Disgusting. I don't even know how much the Snapple cost because I'm a member of the 1% and don't pay attention to that stuff, but it was midtown so let's just say it was $1.75--and I'm not the kind of person who tops a Snapple back up with water, pretends never to have opened it, and asks to exchange it.

Sure, you might argue I'd have paid that stupid tax whether I rode or I didn't, but I suspect the reason for the error was that I'd already been rattled by my previous errors and that my judgment was impaired.

TOTAL STUPID TAX: $13.75

Sure, that may not sound like a lot, but over time it starts to add up. Also, that doesn't even factor in train fare, or all the other stupid taxes I pay without even realizing it because I'm too stupid to notice. Essentially, it cost me at least $26 not to ride my bike yesterday, and I'm deeply unsettled by the fact that without a bicycle I'm merely a moronic crab that constantly leaks small amounts of money.

Then again, when I was younger I paid stupid tax even for riding a bicycle. For example, I actually bought a pair of Ksyriums when they first came out. They cost me pretty much all the money I had, and I think they lasted about a year. Plus, I'm saving a huge amount of stupid tax by no longer living in Brooklyn, where the marginal stupid tax rate is something like 75%. (Coming soon: luxury condos on the Gowanus! Watch dolphins die from your Juliet balcony!) So I guess stupid tax is all relative. In any case, as a card-carrying member of the 1% (my card is a million dollar bill), I blame Obama.

I'm not really up on the rules so I have no idea if this the way it's always been. I did check both the USA Cycling and UCI rulebooks, and I didn't find anything on the subject in the 45 seconds before I fell asleep. Nevertheless, I'm not sure why you need a USA Cycling license to hand somebody a bike, though maybe the plan is to subject the pit crew to doping tests, which would probably result in a lot of suspensions. I did find this in the USA Cycling rulebook, though:

1E3. Road Downgrades(a) A rider who wishes to downgrade may request a downgrade online. Such requests will be evaluated individually. (b) In no case will a rider be allowed to downgrade to category 5.

That is really going to put a damper on my racing plans for 2014, which I've already dubbed "Operation Sandbag." I guess my only alternative at this point is to establish another identity complete with social security number, passport, and so forth, and use that to get a Cat 5 license. Then again, there's always the ultimate downgrade, which is Cat 6 racing, and USA Cycling doesn't require a license for that...yet.

The Brooklyn shopkeeper was already home for the night when her phone rang: a man who said he was from a neighborhood “modesty committee” was concerned that the mannequins in her store’s window, used to display women’s clothing, might inadvertently arouse passing men and boys.

I don't have to tell you what a turn-on mannequins clad in long, drab clothing can be, which is why you'll often find large groups of men and boys pleasuring themselves in front of these sorts of storefronts. Yes, things can get pretty steamy in the Hasidic part of town:

But many Hasidim say they have seen or heard how a shadowy group of men seeks to pressure parents to rein in children who wear dresses too short or stockings too thin, or who chat on cellphones with friends of the opposite sex. One family reported being harassed because the wife had stepped outdoors with a robelike housecoat rather than a long dress.

I'll never forget the day Mrs. Margolis stepped outside in her robelike housecoat. It was easily the most erotic experience of my life. Just thinking about what lay beneath that housecoat (specifically, a body that had squeezed out eleven children) still makes my payos stand on end.

By the way, like the Hasidim, I also deny that I am part of this so-called "squad of enforcers:"

But Hasidim interviewed said squads of enforcers did exist in wildcat form.

Though I do think Modesty Squad would be a good name for one of those '80s-style ska/hardcore bands. They could open for Operation Sandbag. I'd imagine more people would go see that show than will watch the Tour de France this year. Really, given all the controversy I'm surprised the organizers haven't just given up at this point. It's clear from the promotional materials that they're just phoning it in anyway:

Sadly they've been forced to resort to stock photography since there's not a single Tour de France rider who hasn't been implicated in a drug scandal.

Lastly, yesterday I was also talking about the apocalypse, and I'm pleased to report I recently received a promotional email from a company that's already betting we're going to revert to the barter system:

I’m thrilled to be letting you know we're actually launching TIMEREPUBLIK, the first online, non-monetary based community where people exchange services, each offering his or her own skills in exchange for time you can use to get something else done.

Keep an eye on that Bret. He's bound to slip up at some point. You can't keep sneaking around back to the future and tampering with the A-B bottles whenever the situation warrants and expect to get away with it forever.

Here in the "Oh so Deep South Bible Belt it's not even flyover country" we have "Hasidic Modesty Squads". But they are not Hasidic. They are called WIves. As I'm hiding from mine reading BSNYC, dressed up in my Fredly outfit, waiting for the rain and tornadoes to pass thru so I can ride.

Pervis - Qu'est-ce que le fuck is otic penis intercourse? I am tempted to say I'm all for it, because I see the words Penis and intercourse all in the same sentence, but first I have to plead stupidity.

Snowday! Shut down the office at noon. Had to shovel 7 inches off the driveway to get the car in the garage.Now it's time to put the bike on the trainer and watch some porn with a Hamm's in the bottle cage.I see that Velo News is recommending paraffin for chain lubrication. Pedro's isn't going to be too happy.Great post today.

Top Fitty, still coughin up lung cookies from last week. A couple years ago I was taking the train 15mi to work and bikeen the last 5 mi. It was just as stupid taxing as driving though, and that's if I bought the monthly pass instead of the weekly. It was a bit more enjoyable commuting in a slightly larger sardine can, that someone else was piloting.

As a former adolescent, I can assure the testosterone deficient among you that almost any female figure (two or three dimensional abstract or explicit) can arouse the purient interests of a healthy male.

That doesn't necessarily result in a wankfest and definitely not on a public street. But I'm not from NYC, so what do I know.

I love those full length dresses that cover everything from ankle to neck. Especially the ones with lots and lots of buttons that run up and down the front of the dress, which can unbuttoned at leisure for ventilation and/or exposure, as necessary.

As a former copy editor, I'd probably enjoy CX Worlds. Page 2 of the NYTimes is a pleasure. Here's a recent example:

The Media Equation column on Monday, about the animated comedy show “South Park” and its creators, misstated a plot point in the show. While the character Kenny was once killed in every episode, that is no longer the case. The column also misstated the circumstances of his repeated deaths. While Kenny met his fate in a variety of ways over the years, he was not routinely “ritually sacrificed.”

DB,I don't think the forecast is that cold here, but yesterday (rain, 60 degrees, headwind -- actually facewind) and today (started at 40 and raining, and another damn facewind cause it shifted overnight, now it's 30 and snowing) are challenging my wardrobe. By the time I dry out it's time to get back on the bike...

WCRM,My stupid tax (one of them, anyway) is a pair of brake levers in the basement. I bought a Dove-type bar, slid the stem on, glued on cork grips, then the next day admired my glue job, looked at the levers and realized I should have slid them on before the grips.

Vegas, you sure ain't in Vegas if you commute by train. Public transport in Vegas is a JOKE, and there certainly aren't any commuter trains...unless, of course, you mean that you spend your days riding the useless, strip-adjacent monorail?

I recommend an early morning ride down the Grand Concourse starting at Mosholu Parkway. It has a bike lane! The lane ends at 161 St, Yankee Stadium. Take 161 St around the stadium to Jerome Ave. Make a left at 167 St and you're on another bike lane, a nice long hill which flattens out by the University Ave bridge. University Ave will take back north, also a bike lane. Eventually, you'll have to ride out to City Island, Orchard Beach.

Mr. Mayor, I had to take leave of the Silver State and return to the Golden one a few years ago. My fondness for vegetation and real mountain bike trails outweighed my fondness for cactus and heavy drinking. The only "public" tranportation I used there was skitching up W Sahara attached to the side of gardening trucks or auto haulers.

CD, you're right! And that wasn't even a full cheek! But I guess compared to a styrofoam mannequin it was pretty racy.

McFly, I'm sure your kid can bikecycle to the pool, it's an ideal warm-up. As long as he leaves early enough and doesn't have to run across the pool deck, Snob wants to be sure an unintentional triath-uh-lon does not occur.

And is it wrong if I secretly call the Modesty Squad on Frilly? They keep banning her pics, she takes more...a few more snaps and we get to jigsaw puzzle a whole entire Frilly together! haha

still the best return for your entertainment $ so funny and well written that oca is great fun even the skechistani parts in yonkers alot of parks infrastructure work up in the golan hts: the northern manhattan cycling vortex thanks again

As usual, WCRM gets there first. I have paid the off-the-bike stupid tax too many times, but never saw it so clearly.

Three likely Metro North stations: Marble Hill, Spuyten Duyvil, Riverdale. So new neighborhood is either Kingsbridge or Riverdale. Kingsbridge has some inexpensive, big apartments in prewar buildings. Riverdale buildings are newer but I'd think much more expensive. Both are better value than the previous Brooklyn neighborhood.

Speaking of end times, after "The Event" wheel size will be an important factor for survivability. 29ers will be better suited to rolling over skulls, but it will be easier to find parts for 26inch. Or consider the benefits of a folding bicycle if sewer dwelling is to form a significant part of your survival strategy.

But rather than prepping you could just live in the now and take up a nice hobby. Like stalking babble on. Here is a picture I took of her at the gym

One final note Snob, now that you're a jogger you won't be hearing "Hey Lance..." anymore, but brace yourself instead for "Run Forrest..."

And remember to puff a cigarette as you jog for the full Chariots of Fire atmosphere.

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About Me

While I love cycling and embrace it in all its forms, I'm also extremely critical. So I present to you my venting for your amusement and betterment. No offense meant to the critiqued. Always keep riding!